


0.12

by imagines



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: (Spoilers for GPF) In which Yuuri is mad at himself and Victor is terrible at personal space.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, y’all. Almost six years ago, I stopped writing fic, mainly by accident. And after a lot of time passed, I kind of thought I was done. I GUESS ALL I NEEDED WAS A BRAND-NEW FANDOM BASED ON MY FAVORITE SPORT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, nbd.
> 
> p.s. there are certainly no references to my actual favorite skater in this, for I would never do such a thing! >_>

They take a cab back to the hotel. Victor—to whom “personal space” is roughly as familiar a concept as quantum physics—drapes himself all over Yuuri, trying to engage him in conversation. But everything is hazy and Yuuri barely manages the occasional “mm-hm” or “yeah” in response. Finally Victor gives up and spends the rest of the ride tweeting excitedly while Yuuri stares out the window.  
  
Just inside their room, Yuuri drops his bags on the floor and heads for the shower. All he wants is to wash his mind clear of all thoughts and his body clean of the blood, sweat, and tears that paid off… just not as much as he’d intended. As the steaming spray beats down on his skin, he beats himself up for his ingratitude. Silver isn’t _bad_. Silver is in fact shockingly _good_. Once, he couldn’t have dreamed of silver. It just isn’t—what he’d wanted. In the practices leading up to the final, he’d pushed himself harder than ever before, envisioning his goal: giving Victor the gift of having trained the world’s best skater. Instead he’s second-best. If only he could have reached deep enough to drag another 0.12 points worth of effort to the surface.  
  
When Yuuri exits the shower, Victor is perched on the end of his own bed. “Are you going to be ready to go soon?” Victor asks.  
  
Go…? “What?” Yuuri says stupidly. “Where?”  
  
“The party, silly!”  
  
Right. Of course there’s a party. “I wasn’t really planning to go. Kind of forgot about it, honestly.” No matter how good his sportsmanship is, Yuuri isn’t sure he can handle hearing about “Yuri the gold medalist” over and over tonight.  
  
Victor gapes at him. “ _Forgot_? Oh, no, no, that won’t do. No skater of mine will skip a post-competition party! I want to show you off.” He winks.  
  
Whenever Victor is around, butterflies are present in Yuuri’s stomach. But with that wink? And the thought of being shown off, like _he_ is the prize here? The butterflies are doing goddamn triple axels.  
  
Victor hops off his bed and comes over to stand right in front of Yuuri, slightly too close, as usual. Yuuri prays that the towel around his waist stays put. “Let me tell you about this guy I met once when I was competing in Russia,” Victor says. “He was a champion skater—just beautiful. And inexplicably really into bird themes. Yes, yes, we went on a few dates; I won’t go into details, but everything happened that you might expect… ” He trails off tactfully.  
  
Yuuri glares at him. “This is supposed to make me feel better?”  
  
“Hold on, I’m getting to a point. Look, this man lost out on Olympic gold—not once, but twice. He never came close, to be blunt. But that never diminished his shine. You see, as your coach, winning is everything. But I’m not only your coach, am I?”  
  
The butterflies have take up pair skating, and Yuuri’s face feels so hot, he must be red as roses. “No,” he says quietly. “Not _just_ my coach.”  
  
Victor is looking right at him, but he can’t meet Victor’s gaze; the fire there might consume him. “Yes, I wanted to kiss gold. But Yuuri, you don’t need a medal to prove to me that _you_ are gold.” Victor brushes cool fingers along his burning cheek, and Yuuri leans into the touch, closing his eyes, as Victor leans down to him.  
  
Millimeters remain—Yuuri has only to stand on his toes a little and—he steps into the flames, unable to think, unable to breathe, and Victor is ablaze with him.  
  
“So, that party,” Yuuri says, when finally they pry their hands off each other.  
  
“That party,” Victor says. “The one where we mingle and charm the room as if you didn’t just pounce on me.”  
  
“Hey, if anyone pounced, it was you!”  
  
Victor waves a hand. “A mere triviality. Did you have a change of heart about that party?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “I’d like to go, actually.” Because, for the first time ever, the butterflies have settled down for a nap.


End file.
